


Time Has Come Again

by Sashataakheru



Series: Hooker Craig AU [4]
Category: The Chaser RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Friendship, Grief, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Physical Abuse, Recreational Drug Use, asking for help
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 20:14:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7236841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sashataakheru/pseuds/Sashataakheru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In some ways, it was one single thing that led Andrew to run away from his life in Sydney. But he hadn't expected that one single thing to catch up with him six years later. </p>
<p>I felt Andrew's backstory wasn't fleshed out enough, and this is what I ended up with. Set 2011, about a year or so after Reveries of a Solitary Night Walker.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time Has Come Again

5:30pm  
Andrew watched the storm clouds rolling in across the ocean and shivered. It was going to be a rough night. Darkness was closing in fast, and the wind was growing icy cold. Quickly finishing his cigarette, he squashed it underfoot, and turned back to the streets, where the pubs were beckoning.

He slipped into his usual starting joint, a small gay bar with a clientele who drank XXXX like it was their job. They were usually good for a few quick bucks, and if it went well, he felt the rest of the night would go well.

He spotted a man by the bar, leaning over his beer. Andrew wasn't sure he'd seen him before, but there was something about him that Andrew recognised. Curious, he went over and sat beside him, ordering a drink of his own.

"So, you new in town, then? I haven't seen you round here before," Andrew said.

"Yeah, moved here for work."

The man turned to look at him, and Andrew knew that face, wrinkled as it was with sorrow and fatalism, and a few grey hairs. "Chris. God. It's been years. What are you - It's me, Andrew. From Sydney."

"I know. I heard you were up here now." Chris didn't sound surprised, or shocked. Instead, he sounded defeated.

Andrew touched his face, stared into his eyes. He seemed a long way from the jubliant man he remembered. He wondered how Chris had found out where he was. "What happened to you?"

"Too much happened," Chris said. He sighed into his empty glass and got to his feet. "I don't want to talk about it in here."

"So, do you want to come with me tonight?" Andrew said, standing up.

Chris closed his eyes and nodded, fishing out his wallet. "Yeah, I don't want to be alone right now."

Andrew took his arm. "I don't care about that, just come with me. If you want somewhere quiet, I know a few places we can go."

Chris didn't resist, and let Andrew lead him out of the bar and into the street. Andrew wasn't sure what to say to him, but he was working, and that was different. But then, Chris had happened so long ago it barely hurt anymore. He wondered if Chris felt the same.

"So, do you want privacy, or solitude?" Andrew asked, trying to guess where his mind was at.

"Solitude."

_ Andrew, Nine Years Ago _   
_Walking home in the rain, Andrew stared at the ground, trying not to feel too depressed at how little he'd made. Sure, the weather had been terrible, and that always chased away the punters, but it was a hit to his income he didn't need. Still, it was better than making nothing at all._

_"Oi, you wanna lift, mate?"_

_Andrew turned to see a car pulling up beside him. It took him a minute to recognise the driver as a man named Chris, who seemed to follow him around the clubs where he played. He stopped._

_"Uh, sure, I guess?"_

9pm  
Solitude was a patch of beach no one bothered with. It was too far from everything, and the lighting was terrible. Sitting on the hood of Chris' car, they shared cigarettes and a bottle of gin, doing nothing but sit in the silence, listening to the waves and the noises of the night.

"I guess I should apologise," Chris ventured, barely breaking the silence with his voice.

Andrew looked at him. "For what?"

Chris sighed. "For everything, I guess. I was a shithead to you. You didn't deserve that from me."

"I was hardly an angel. You can't blame yourself for that. You can blame yourself for leaving, though. That was definitely your fault," Andrew said.

Chris managed a little smile. "I thought you'd be gutted still. You said you always took break-ups really hard."

Andrew sat up and considered his words. "Oh, I did hate you. For a long time, I hated you. But being up here, I don't know. I met someone else, and then it didn't matter anymore. Are you disappointed I haven't spent the past six years pining for you?"

"Not really, I'd have hated you if you had. I wasn't worth that," Chris said.

"So what brought you up here, anyway? Was it really work?" Andrew said.

Chris nodded. "Yeah, I started working at this company a few years back, and I was just moved to their new offices here. It's a boring job, with boring colleagues, but it pays well enough, I guess. I can't complain."

"Did you know I was here before you came?" Andrew said.

"No, I only found out once I got here. An old mate told me. I wasn't sure I wanted to see you, but it's always good to see a familiar face in a strange town," Chris said.

_ Andrew, Eight Years Ago _   
_The insults came flying thick and fast. The gig was not going well; Andrew barely had time to grab his case and his guitar before the glasses started being thrown. Running the gauntlet to the door, he was nearly outside when a glass collided with his shoulder. Ignoring the sudden pain, he kept running._

_He didn't register the blood or the stinging wounds until he stopped some time later. Standing on a crowded street corner, he noticed the blood, and fainted._

_When he came to, he was at home. Chris sat beside him. "Chris?"_

_"Yeah, yeah, it's me. You had me worried for a while there. But they said you'll be fine, yeah? It's just stitches," Chris said._

_Andrew sat up, rubbing his forehead. Memories of the attack drifted back into his mind. Chris offered a gentle kiss._

_"Maybe you shouldn't play that pub anymore. That's the second time this month," Chris said._

_Andrew couldn't think of anything to say, and lay back down. Chris lay down beside him, holding him as gently as he could._

_"Why do they hate me?" Andrew said._

_"I don't hate you. I love you, you know that. Fuck what they think, yeah?" Chris said._

3am  
The gin had run out, and they had moved onto weed. Their conversation was mostly nonsensical at this point, but Andrew didn't care. Neither of them had really confessed anything of great importance. The past remained undisturbed.

They had left the car and wandered onto the beach. It was still dark, and Chris felt the need to get his feet wet. Andrew watched him from the shore, wondering what it was he wanted.

At least he was sure he didn't want him. Any lingering affection, and hatred, for Chris had left his heart a long time ago. Whether Chris still loved him, and this was the cause for his melancholy, Andrew didn't know.

Chris fell to his knees in the wet sand. Andrew could hear him crying.

"You alright?" Andrew said, moving towards him.

Chris didn't reply as Andrew sat next to him, wrapping an arm around him. "It's okay, man, I'm here. You're alright, yeah?"

"Please tell me it's safe here. I need to know it's safe here. For me. For people like us," Chris said.

Andrew understood. He lifted him to his feet. "Come on, I know where you need to go. I know where you'll be safe."

_ Andrew, Seven Years Ago _   
_"I just - I can't do this anymore. I love you, I really do, but this isn't going to work out. I'm sorry," Chris said._

_It had come out of nowhere, or so Andrew thought. One minute, their relationship seems to be going fine. They'd just celebrated their two year anniversary. Chris had seemed happy. Hadn't he?_

_Afterwards, he had come up with so many things to say to him in that moment, but at the time, when his heart was breaking, he could find no words to stop Chris walking out the door._

_Chris had certainly picked his moment. Andrew had been out busking, he'd made some good money, as well as being offered a few gigs the next week to tide him over. He'd come home in a good mood, only to find Chris packing up the last of his things into his car._

_"What's going on?" Andrew said._

_"I - come inside. We need to talk," Chris said._

_Andrew had followed, and had sat on the couch, patiently, while Chris tried to explain why he was leaving. Andrew tried to understand, but all he could hear was rejection. If Chris really loved him, why was he leaving?_

_The shock took a long time to dissipate. The next month passed by in a haze. How he survived, he didn't know. He was barely sober, unsure how to go on without Chris. Nothing made sense._

_He was sure he'd have taken a different path if he'd been in a different headspace, but when a bloke at a pub offered him $50 for a blowjob, he agreed. The mindlessness of it all, of sucking off a stranger in a pub toilet for easy money, was enough to get him through it. And when someone else asked, it got harder to say no._

4am  
The house was almost unimportant, and unnoticeable in the dark street. Chris had been reluctant to go inside, but Andrew encouraged him. He wasn't in any fit state to be running around the clubs just yet. But if he needed sanctuary, Mama Bear would give it to him. Andrew could think of no one else he trusted to take care of Chris and help him get back on his feet. Whether they would see each other after that, Andrew didn't know. He had wasted an entire night with him, and had made no money, but at least Chris was safe.

_ Andrew, Six Years Ago _   
_He'd never been very successful, all things considered. He felt like he'd hit a wall he couldn't get past. He was neither struggling, nor thriving. Creative frustration was growing, and the opportunities were drying up. Every day was the same: busking, gigs, sex work. Nothing changed._

_He hadn't wanted to make prostitution his primary income, but the money he could make in just a few hours was impossible to turn down. It had taken a month to negotiate a patch of his own to work, and while it had also left him beaten up, it was hardly that different to getting beaten up for his music._

_In many ways, it was a way to distract himself from Chris. Between his music, and his sex work, there was no time for a relationship, nor did he want one. He needed to harden his heart a little more before he was willing to think about that again._

_Wanking off drunk blokes in alleyways was a good anaesthetic to love. It was hard to care about anything as they grunted above him and shoved their dirty hands all over him as they fucked him hard against a wall._

_Lying in bed afterwards, once he'd showered and scrubbed himself clean, he gazed at the ceiling, wondering if things would ever get better. He had enough money to keep his flat. But nothing was improving. He didn't have enough to move, or to save for anything better. He was going nowhere fast._

_His career was stagnating as he played the same gigs in the same pubs for the same crowd, week after week, and nothing happened. He sketched out a few new songs, but he didn't have the energy to develop them further. He was drowning, he knew it, but he didn't know what to do._

_The catalyst, he discovered, was seeing Chris as he was setting up for a gig. Chris had a new boyfriend. It was the first time he'd seen him since they'd broken up, and in that moment, Andrew knew he needed to get out. There wasn't anything left for him here anymore._

_He managed to get through the gig well enough. He took the money and headed home. He spent the rest of the evening packing up his things. He left the next day, leaving a note and the rent for his landlord, and drove north, refusing to look back._

 


End file.
